


The Monster Inside His Head

by BrokenHazelEyes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenHazelEyes/pseuds/BrokenHazelEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning for Self Injury triggers. Stiles turns to self harm, leaving the Pack horrified once they find out. The question? How far will his addiction go, and will Derek and the pack be able to save him in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Monster Inside His Head

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf, or any of it's characters/ story lines. Enjoy!

Rain pitter-pattered on the weathered windows of the Stilinski home, creating an almost ambient atmosphere. All lights were either off or dimmed to a barley visible golden hue, and while it was beautiful, it was also borderline horrific. Shadows trapesed across pale, fading paint while flickering like clawed giants. It was this time of day- the silence, the calm, the loneliness- that Stiles hated most. Even his room was free of any brooding wolves, just himself and the hateful company his mind provided. 

Thoughts were passing at a thousand miles per second, flashing so fast they left no room to ponder. Some were sweet, images of the past and a life no longer available. However, as was his luck, most were now morphing into gore-y, death riddled stories that played like bad novels at the worst time. 

With a heavy sigh, Stiles forced himself off the cold ground of his bedroom and turned on the main overhead light. The sudden assault of light burned the brunett's eyes to the point he had to squeeze them shut until his eyelids turned to a pale darkness instead of angry red. 

Red.

With a gasp, Stiles fell to the ground, crawling backward until his back hit the wall. Suddenly, his brain turned into the enemy, spewing images of his mangled body, of his father's face as blood ran down his mothers face, and it all clicked sickenly into place. 

Human.

Fragile.

Broken.

Worthless.

 

~*~

 

Ten minutes later Stiles was still shaking, his attack creeping away into the edges of his vision. His phone was thrown to the side, the messages to Scott forgotten-as they would never be answered, even read-and a razor blade gripped tightly between his thumb and pointer finger. 

There were sixteen neat red lines drawn on his upper thigh, blood drying quickly on Stiles' pale skin. The razor dropped with a thud, tiny beads of blood finding purchase on the carpet. A towel was under his leg, so the floor wouldn't suffer to much damage, and then was rapped around the cuts without thought. He sat there, for who knows how long, before his phone dinged. He didn't need to see the screen to know what it said. 

From: Scott  
To: Stiles

Sorry bro, with A. Busy.

 

Smearing blood on the key board, Stiles punched back a message before hauling himself up on the bed and curling inward. Sleep never came, but in all senses, Stiles was dead to the world.

To: Scott  
From: Stiles

It's fine. Talk to you l8er? 

 

He didn't expect a response.


End file.
